Of blood, snow and something blue
by Deezaster82
Summary: "If I keep my little rabbit in its cage, it's for his own good!" Dubcon Russia/DDR!Prussia. Mention of Germancest.
1. There stood a new border

A little note before starting: DDR's story...As a fairy tale.

Even though this is going to be a highly romanced view of the after WWII history, I'll work to make it as historically accurate as possible. I will certainly skip little details, mostly because I don't want this fic to be a simple copy of what you can read in your History books.

This story contains Prussia/Russia, but it won't be a love story between these two. I thought you might want to be warned.

1 Prequel

They came from the West, he came from the East. A mouth curved in irrepressible disgust at the sight of the tall man who's smile still looked far too so innocent even though his long coat was marred with dry and fresh blood. Similarly soiled were his hands and boots, Russia faced his allies.

-" You made it further than we thought" America forced his voice to be neutral as he locked eyes with Russia. He didn't know what the Russian army had done in Berlin yet. He would probably have emptied his stomach if he'd known.

Next to him, England. The brit stared at Ivan with the same uncomfortable feeling in the guts: All about the Russian nation; his cocky smile and the smell of blood that impregnated the air around him, made Arthur clench his teeth.

-" I do not have to remind you about our agreements, da?" Russia stroked the pipe in his hand like he would have a pet or a child.

Something passed in America's eyes and he suddenly had a strange impression, one that promised a complicated future.

-" I have not forgotten. You'll be occupying the East part of the territory...Up to this point"

The allies had agreed to split the defeated, soon conquered Germany, where ever the American and Russian army would meet.

There they were, the town of Torgau.

Russia nodded, his smile still in place. " Good!" he declared cheerfully " Then we can all go on our way, da? You and I have a lot to do, I will not keep you here any longer."

The meaning was clear behind the polite words, America and England looked at each other with faces that showed equal discomfort. Russia simply waited for them to leave patiently, but the two occidentals were not done.

-" Ludwig enquired about his brother's whereabouts..." England started.

-" How can you allow this?" Russia cut him, reprobation darkening his eyes. " Barking dogs must be beaten! Ludwig should have no more rights in this world!"

England and America just blinked, it was no use arguing about Germany's future with Russia.

" What have you done to Gilbert? Is he still alive?"

Russia said nothing but stuck a hand in his pocket, rummaged a little inside, and retrieved something that looked like a necklace. It was Gilbert's Iron cross, England realized.

-" The little one was hard to break!" Russia explained, an almost dreamy expression on his face. " But at the end, he still died!" He dropped the necklace in America's open hand.

-" Tell Germany that Prussia screamed like a sow for hours before he died, and he couldn't stop screeching how he hated his Nazi pig of a brother!"

England's hand squeezed America's arm and pulled him. " We are done here, Alfred! Let's go!"

Russia waved at them until they were out of sight, then he giggled like a happy child, the wind of East whistling angrily around him.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

France stroked the silver and black cross in his hand reverently and forbid himself to cry. Today, he would not laugh of the tragic fate of an enemy, but he would mourn the loss of an old friend.

Nations lived too long to bother with stupid things like rancour. Prussia had been one of his best friend, and the wars they had led against each other didn't matter, those were fought only because of their bosses' will. To France, and to Prussia too he knew, it had changed nothing for them. They had been friends for too long to let History break that strong bond.

France started at the cross America had entrusted him so he could give it to Ludwig.

He could not believe Gilbert had died, his friend had always pretended to be too awesome for death, and France had always thought it had to be true.

At least, until now.

The fact was there, so blunt, so clear, displayed in front of his eyes on the map where the name 'Prussia' had been erased

France pressed his hand against his eyes a moment before entering the restricted area where Ludwig was held prisoner. It would be hard to tell the already broken man that he would never see his brother again.

Germany looked nothing like the strong man he had been months ago. Defeated, his only small relief has been the suicide of Adolf Hitler, the insane boss that had forced him thought this war and led him to shame. Now Ludwig was left with indelible memories, remorses and the angry laments of those who had found death because of him, be it on the battlefield or in the camps.

Their screams of agony, he knew, would haunt him forever.

Ludwig had not talked about this since he had been taken by the allies, but his eyes spoke of his inner torments better than his mouth ever could. His present appearance revealed his true age. He was still very young for a nation, barely even an adult.

And now, he looked like a child, a lost and frightened child who kept asking for his older brother, the only family he ever had, not knowing of his fate yet.

France didn't know how to tell him, he was at loss for words, but he hoped his eyes would convey his honest compassion when he gently placed Prussia's necklace on the floor of Germany's cell.

Once they fell on the item, blue eyes shot open wide. Ludwig hurried to retrieved the decoration and cradled it to his chest, his hand shielding it from view, and all sanity seemed to abandon him. His body trembled a moment, then, suddenly and without taking any air in, he screamed much louder than his lungs probably allowed.

It was a feral, wordless scream and it sounded like it couldn't possibly come from a single human's mouth. The sheer power of it went through the wall of the cell and France's heart.

It went through the air and kept the distance.

And eventually, it was heard by the ears it has sought.

Red eyes blinked in confusion.

-" What was that, master?" the one who once had been a kingdom asked the one he thought was his saviour.

-" Probably a lone wolf howling to death, little one. Go back to sleep now" The tall man with violet eyes drew the blanket further over his slightly trembling charge. " stay warm, da?"

TBC


	2. Fall of Königsberg

A few months earlier...

( February 1945)

He was moving back. He had been moving back for years now.

Ever since the defeat in Stalingrad, ever since Ludwig had to leave to take care of the western front, everything had gone downhill. There was no moving forward anymore, only defeat and running away, oh Prussia loathed this!

In his greatest times, he would have charged forward no matter what! He would have died rather than fleeing like a coward.

Had time made him go soft, or was it that he was preoccupied by something else now? Since when did he care about others than himself? Since when did he want to preserve his soldiers' life when, only a hundred of years before, he had sent many to death without a shadow of remorse? Since when falling in battle had stopped to be the greatest honour any man could hope?

Oh he had the answer to all those questions: Since their leader was an insane man no one had faith in anymore.

That Austrian guy wasn't a man to die for, even if a few still believed it. Only fools could still believe and remain confident in a hypothetical victory.

Gilbert knew it was over and he was certain that West had no higher hope than he had.

The war would be over, very soon.

But for now, Prussia would defend his ground for as long as God allowed it. The Russian army, marching to the West, more powerful than ever, had forced them to move back to Königsberg and Gilbert had promised himself that there would be no moving back this time.

He would defend the place with all he had.

He would defend it with his life, because that city was all he had left to call his own. It was his capital: If Köningsberg fell, then he'd fell too.

Would that happen, Prussia wanted his life to end in the most awesome way. He wanted to be found covered in more of the enemy's blood than his own. He wanted his face to wear a grin in death so Russia would know that he'd haunt him forever after.

He also wanted to see West and say goodbye.

He had, and this surprised even himself, so much things he wanted to tell his brother, most of them being of the 'sissy' kind. He wanted to see Germany and tell him how he was proud, how his younger charge had surpassed all hopes he'd had for him, how he hoped the future would be forgiving, how he had grown strong and handsome... And how, for the first time of his life, Prussia had been more than inclined to accept a marriage.

And then, if no one was around to see and hear, he would tell Ludwig that he had been serious that one time they had allowed their relation to go beyond that point brothers never cross. The 'Ich liebe dich' he had whispered then had been honest and true, still was.

But he knew no God would ever grant his wishes. West was too far, the Russians were too close. Thin were the chances they'd ever see each other again.

So, when the first Russian rocket made the ground tremble under his feet, Prussia looked up at the sky. He stared intently at a bunch of clouds that were being pushed by the wind of East toward the West, and put his thoughts in it. This was the only way he could convey his last message to Ludwig.

All was said and Prussia had nothing left to do but fight.

He forced to his mind memories of another time, memories of a king he could have died for a thousand times over and memories of a little boy, an handsome man with sky-blue eyes, for whom he was more than happy to give his life.

Blood in his mind, blood in his eyes, he bared his teeth in a demented grin and charged, his feral battle cry resonating before him, his army following close behind.

He had already seen fire in those most alluring red eyes, on many occasions during the past years. But never, until today, has that fire burned so bright with so much rage and determination. Russia was more than a little intrigued by this man who was the living picture of Russia's darkest fantasies.

Prussia reminded him so much of bright blood on pure white snow.

He was exalted at the thought that, very soon, Prussia's life would be his to dispose of.

It couldn't and it didn't last long. Prussia hold on, fought with all he had until he had no more to give. When, eventually, all of his body' strength was exhausted three days later, even Russia was impressed he had held on for such a long time.

Russia came to pick up his prize. His frozen heart suddenly beat faster when he laid his eyes on Prussia's body, sprawled in the snow, covered with blood that was, for the most part, not even his own. He was conscious and still breathing, but he was too spent to move.

Prussia weakly turned his head to look at Russia and offered him his best grin. Ivan grinned back, pleased to see that the fire in those eyes was still burning as bright as before.

He crouched close to the fallen nation, smiled and tilted his head to observe him.

-" Now you are mine, da!" He said. His hand moved to stroke the white hair, still too immaculate to his liking

-" I'd rather die!" Prussia spat blood and glared hard.

Russia giggled and stood up, picking his pipe from under his coat.

His new acquired pet made for a stunning sight in the snow, but it wasn't perfect enough. There was not enough fresh blood, Russia wanted to see it impregnate the white under and around him.

He lifted the pipe, then brought it down, and again.

And again.

And again.

A crimson river went through the snow, penetrated the soil and told the world of its owner's demise. Russia beat him to a thin inch of his life and stopped only when his eyes were drunk from the wonderful sight that was dark red snow.

He picked what was left of Prussia up and brought him back with him. For now, he only did whatever was necessary to keep Gilbert alive ( He wasn't Prussia anymore, Prussia was dead) and left him in the care of his doctors and servants. It wasn't like he would wake up any time soon anyway.

Russia had to leave then, for he didn't have much time.

He had another German capital to burn down to ashes.


End file.
